


Apple-cider

by BoboBibbles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drapple, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-04 13:10:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11555883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoboBibbles/pseuds/BoboBibbles
Summary: Draco finds himself in a relationship that starts as a joke but escalates into something more. A Drapple fic that attempts to do something more.





	1. Chapter 1

The class was dead silent and still, all except for the frantic scratching of quill on parchment as students hurried their notetaking while Snape dictated for the class in a soft and deadly whisper. He whisked up a potion from his table and narrated the procedure for concocting it without taking his eyes off the shimmering vapours that came forth from a vial he held at face level. He jabbed violently at particular spots on the cauldron with his wand while making the occasional violent motion towards random students as well, who jumped as he singled them out and sang out answers to questions he asked.  
The class was rapt with attention because Snape had a knack for bringing out the flight or fight response in his students, and inattention would earn his malicious wrath.

Well, no, some were asleep, tired from late nighters, no doubt, but even then made sure to sleep with their eyes open as sleeping with your eyes closed in Snape’s dungeon was akin to a death wish. Several had attempted it, nearly died as Snape punished them with glee for their insubordination, and remaining survivors had learned from the mistakes of the fallen and carried on.

Snape’s whispers carried across the room as he carried on with his potionmaking.

“…leaving the consciousness of the victim whole, but the pain receptors live and active, this leaves the victims, I mean, subjects, breathless in a matter of minutes as their adrenaline levels jump and their pancreas incessantly pump out insulin, which causes the vic--subjects blood sugar to skyrocket, the poison slowly floods the nervous system--”  
_Chomp smooch smack._  
“…outlawed under several countries under section 71.B as a Class III highly dangerous chemical substance of a poisonous nature-- ”  
Smooch kiss smack.  
“…irredeemably, and so, it was banned in 182 countries after the Treaty of Versailles that argued that mankind had finally created a weapon worthy of the biblical devil--”  
_Smooch smack kiss._  
Snape slammed his desk with his open palms, sending an ear-splitting crack that resounded through the classroom. Some students stopped breathing. Some had jumped up in their seats. Harry had jumped a whole 4 inches more than Ron, who had only managed 2 inches, and they exchanged looks of abject horror, like prey animals that sensed death in the air.

“What,” Snape began in a deadly hiss, “is that infernal racket?”  
Snape jerked his head towards the students, his tiny black pupils glittering with malice. He scanned across the rows of students one by one. His eyes came to rest on the godforsaken Potter boy. Was it him?  
No, he looked like he had nearly wet his pants in terror, looking as stupid and arrogant as ever. He was too scared to pull off anything with Snape in the room.  
Snape’s eyes ranged across the students again. The Weasley boy? No, he was too busy picking his nose and pretending not to be eating it—  
Granger? No, she was treating every word of his like gospel as usual, scribbling his words at a speed that threatened to set fire to the parchment and launch her into the future with the required 1.21 jijawatts being met.  
Snape contorted his face in a grimace and scanned the students once again, confused.  
None of the Gryffindor lot seemed to be doing anything untoward at all. But then..

_Smooch smack kiss._

Oh, heavens no. The Slytherin lot? Snape jerked his head so suddenly that the students thought he had twisted it and cringed. 

_Smack kiss slurp._

Snape’s eyes glistened. The students gave an audible gasp, Cormac McLaggen even screamed, as Snape glided over to the Slytherin contingent with unnatural acceleration and speed, his eyes narrowing in towards a pasty little white boy with slicked-back blonde hair.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing, Malfoy?” Snape hissed.  
The idiot scion of Malfoy wasn’t looking silently at the blackboard with a god-fearing obedience in his eyes, with his hand on his quill like he was supposed to be doing. There was an apple in his hand, raised to his face level, and he was ferociously eating— no— humans did not eat like that— he was kissing— making out with the accursed apple in front of everyone in the middle of class.  
The class held its breath as Snape’s face drew closer inch by inch to Draco’s eye level. The bottomless black pits Snape had for eyes threatened unimaginable anguish and pain beneath their icy unfathomable depths.


	2. Chapter 2

“Draco?”

Snape stood over Draco, like an overgrown bird of prey with his eyes bulging out, his lips a thin line that betrayed no emotion at all. Alas, Draco barely noticed. His lips were too busy locked onto the succulent red apple, making the most obscene sounds that would turn any young witch’s cheeks red.  
He held the apple in place with one hand while he made the gentlest of caresses with the other on the back of the apple. His loud kissy-kissy sounds filled the dark recesses of the dungeon, which for some reason, Hogwarts decided was a perfectly acceptable place to allow Snape to teach students in, a dingy black dungeon where who-knows-what horrible things had taken place.

The students sitting nearest to Draco edged away, dragging their giant cauldrons along with them.  
Behind Draco, Crabbe and Goyle looked frozen in place, not knowing how to respond. They opened their mouths like they wanted to say something, but upon seeing the pure fury Snape radiated forth, decided to drop low in their seats instead. The Gryffindor lot were torn between bursting out with laughter and their desire not to be murdered by Snape.  
Pansy Parkinson released a sigh as she fixated her gaze on Draco’s lips and her hands disappeared with no plot relevance behind her desk.

“Draco, ” Snape began again, in a voice of cold liquid nitrogen that chilled the air with each syllable he took.  
Smooch kiss smack.  
“What in Merlin’s…” Ron mouthed, too scared to say the words aloud.  
Draco continued to glomp the apple, doing horrible things to it with his tongue as the entire class and Snape gazed at him, transfixed.  
“Draco,” Snape said considerably louder, clearly growing further irritated as each second passed. Neville Longbottom was purple from lack of oxygen and Hermione nudged him in the ribs, causing him to bend over and gasp with a shuddering exhale.  
Smooch smack kiss glomp.  
Snape’s eyes glittered. He raised his hand and brought it down on Draco’s table with a thundering bang that shook the room, causing all the ingredients on Draco’s table to jump.  
“Bwah?”  
Draco stopped tonguing the apple. He blinked, now looking up into the pale, leering face of Severus Snape hovering in front of him. His nose was mere inches from him now. Snape’s eyes were narrowed in fury and a vein throbbed in his temple.  
“Have you lost your mind, idiot boy?” spat out Snape. “Just what is it you think you are doing?”  
The vein was pulsing, turning redder and redder. Harry exchanged alarmed looks with Ron, as if Snape would literally have his head explode any moment.  
Draco’s eyes were wide. He looked at Snape like a deer frozen in headlights.  
He looked around, his eyes mildly unfocused. He turned to Snape again, the confusion evident on his face.  
“Huh? What? I don’t…”  
“What in blazes do you mean by it, boy?”  
“What do I mean by what? I…”  
Draco blinked. He gave a curious look at the rest of the class, as if he had no idea why they were all suddenly staring at him.  
“I-I didn't hear the question. Sorry.” Draco said, not looking into Snape’s eyes.  
All heads turned to Snape, waiting to see how he would react.  
Snape stared unblinking at Draco, his head tilted ever so slightly.  
“What are you doing with that apple in your hand, Mr. Malfoy?”  
Draco looked at the apple in his hand.  
“I.. don't know?”  
Snape whipped his wand out so quickly, Draco thought he had apparated it into place.  
“Confundus revelio!”  
Draco blinked. Snape blinked. The rest of the class held their breaths.  
But nothing happened.  
Snape yanked the apple from’s Draco’s hand, who yelped in response. He rolled the apple over in his palms, his tiny black eyes darting over every inch of it. He muttered a spell that cleared Malfoys' spittle from it and tucked it inside his robes, shooting Malfoy a look of curiosity now, rather than loathing.  
“Do not disrupt class again, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape whispered before whirling about and returning to the front of the class.

Crabbe waited till Snape began his potionwork again before leaning in towards Malfoy.  
“Did someone... did someone imperio you?” said Crabbe in a low voice. “Are you.. Do you feel all right?”  
Draco shook his head.  
“I can't remember a thing.” Draco said. “Why did I have an apple?”  
Crabbe exchanged worried looks with Goyle.  
Draco felt the eyes of everyone in class on him. Why was he so incredibly aroused? Their stares weren’t helping, so he busied himself with his potionwork, trying to redirect the flow of blood to his brain. Why had Snape looked at him like that? Why couldn’t he remember? Had he dozed off?  
He began chopping up the ingredients on his table, not taking his eyes off his cauldron in case Snape decided to glance over.  
“What in Merlin's name happened?” Draco whispered so that Crabbe and Goyle could hear.  
“What did I do? Why’s everyone looking at me like that?”  
Crabbe leaned forward.  
“You don't remember doing anything?”  
Draco shook his head.  
“You—” Crabbe began, but Goyle had nudged him in the ribs.  
Snape was looking in their direction, so they hastily resumed chopping their ingredients, making sure to keep their eyes trained on their cauldrons.

Over at Harry Potter’s table, Ron shot Harry a meaningful look, and Harry nodded in response.  
“Muffliato,” Harry muttered under his breath, ensuring Snape wouldn’t overhear them.


	3. Chapter 3

Ron leaned in towards Harry, grinning like Christmas had come early. His freckles were radiant as he beamed at the two of them.

"This is the greatest day of my life," said Ron, as he looked wistfully across the class at Malfoy, who had now begun pounding his dragon testicles to mix into the bizarre potion Snape was teaching them.

"Do you think he's been Imperio-d?"

"Of course he can't be, how many times do I have to tell you two?" said Hermione, wiping her brow as she stirred her cauldron, "You can't cast Unforgivable Curses in Hogwarts like that and not set off any wards! Honestly!"

Ron shook his head.

"Oh, come off it, you think Malfoy snogged an apple in class because he's that pathetic and lonely?"

Ron tossed a pinch of antimatter powder into his cauldron, which let out a high pitched fart, causing Harry to erupt into a fit of giggles. Hermione raised an eyebrow and looked into Ron's cauldron, which was obviously not at all the colour it was supposed to be. Ron shrugged as if to say "It does that sometimes."

Hermione shook her head, a smile playing at her lips.

"I know he's a slimy git and all, but even then.." Ron trailed off.

Hermione was rifling her fingers through her hair, her eyes fixed on her cauldron.

"Well, he's not confounded, Snape checked for that. The apple itself could be enchanted, though, I'm not sure.."

Hermione crinkled her nose, lost in thought.

Ron looked flushed with happiness. His face glowed like the setting sun.

"An enchanted apple that makes people want to snog it? Brilliant! I bet it's one of Fred and George's. They're always doing stuff like that."

"I don't know…"

"Oh, man, I respected them before, but wow." Ron said, unable to stop smiling now.

"This is the stuff of legend, it is. Taking the mickey out of Malfoy like that… Bloody legendary."

"It doesn't make any sense, Ron," said Hermione, "Snape took the apple and he didn't act funny. Unless maybe it's been enchanted to target only Malfoy? But target-specific activation spells aren't easy.. AND that would make it really advanced magic, I don't know if even Fred and George…"

"Oh, come on, " Ron said, shaking his head. "Who else could it be?"

Hermione said nothing. She ran her fingers through her hair again, seemingly lost in thought.

"Oh, I wish I was rich enough to buy a pensieve," Ron said. "Then I could bottle this memory up and blackmail Malfoy whenever he had a go at my family." Ron sat back and let out a sigh, smiling happily.

"Oh, wait, no, I just had a thought. I could sell those memories to anyone who'd buy them at, what, 1 galleon per memory? I bet I'd be a millionaire before the end of the week!"

"You could charge a lot more than that, Ron," said Hermione as her lips twitched with amusement.

Across the class, Draco Malfoy was having trouble concentrating.

He pounded the last of his troll moustaches(which were surprisingly stiff and rigid), causing them to soften and tenderize, just like meat was tenderized with a mallet. He ripped the moustache into tiny little bite-sized pieces, gathered them all in a handful and chucked the whole lot into his cauldon. The contents of the cauldron turned golden, which made no sense if you thought about it, but hey, this was magic. Snape was leering at the class again, looming over his giant cauldron which had begun to expel solid purple bubbles across the room.

Snape's mere presence was enough to silence the class into absolute obedience, and it was from this fear that none of them dared gossip or whisper about what Malfoy had just done in class. He paced around his cauldon like an overgrown bat once again, sweeping his cloak with every turn he took, whispering in a voice so low that the whole class had to strain their ears to listen.

"…For example," said Snape, lazily waving a wand over his cauldon, which was changing colours, "Let us consider the muggles—"

With another sweep of his arm, Snape sprinkled fine powder into frothing purple contents of his cauldron. The insides of the cauldron hissed and fizzled.

"The primitive fools believe that venoms are to be administered on a gram to bodyweight basis," said Snape. "However… "

Snape drew a vial from the inside of his robes and uncorked it. Gently tilting it, he allowed a single drop of its contents into the cauldron, which popped like popcorn, then immediately began to froth and sprout black tentacles.

"We have already learned that magical venoms are unlike any rudimentary muggle poisons," whispered Snape.

"A single milligram is sufficient to disrupt the electrolyte balance in the body, rendering the electrical signals in the brain and the heart, null."

Snape leered at the class.

"Potionmaking, unlike other forms of magic, requires the most precise of measurements and calculations. While blundering this potion isn't necessarily fatal, it usually results in—"

Smooch kiss slurp.

Snape had stopped breathing. The entire class felt a surge of adrenaline once again. All eyes darted towards Draco Malfoy, who was once again passionately making out with the same apple in his hand, slobbering over its shiny red exterior.

Snape's knuckles whitened. The glass vial in his hand shattered, sending purple liquid everywhere, onto his face, the floor, the walls and all around Snape's cauldron, painting it all purple.

The class went into an uproar, shrieking at the sight of Snape covered in an allegedly fatal potion, but Snape raised his wand and silence fell upon the room. Several girls exchanged glances, their mouths wide open in horror but Snape had Silencio-d them, leaving the class silent enough to hear a pin drop.

With laser-like precision, Snape made a line for Draco Malfoy and stopped before his cauldron.

Draco was oblivious to Snape before him, too busy melding his tongue with the apple in his hand.

Snape's face was contorted in absolute, livid, unyielding fury. He pressed a hand over his robes, looking for something, but failed to find it. He snapped the apple out of Malfoy's hand and Malfoy slowly turned to look at him.

He grabbed Malfoy by the collar, drawing his face within inches of his.

And once again, Draco found himself staring into the infinite abyss that were Snape's eyes. Draco suppressed a shudder.

"Out," Snape whispered, his lips barely moving. "Now."

Draco's eyes were round and innocent.

"What?"

"Get out of my class, Mr. Malfoy," Snape spat out, his face twisted with fury.

"I… What?" Draco spluttered, "But I.."

The vein in Snape's temple was pulsing a deep shade of red.

"OUT! NOW!"

"I…"

Snape pushed Draco backward, and Draco stumbled back, looking at Snape in sheer bemusement.

"Get OUT!" Snape thundered. He wagged a finger at Draco, the apple clenched securely in his hand.

"Bringing shame to Slytherin's name! I will make sure—" Snape began, but stopped mid sentence. He lost focus, looking around the room. Then he blinked and found Draco's face again, seemingly lost in thought about something.

He peered at Draco with his narrow black eyes and began again.

"If you ever want to return to this class again, you…"

Snape faltered, losing his focus once again. His eyes searched the room and his face seemed vacant. Then he discovered the apple clenched in his pale hands and his eyes came alive with delight.

He brought it to his face, seemingly enraptured by it. His expression had gone soft, his pupils had dilated.

The entire class had a collective intake of breath.

Closer and closer, Snape drew the apple towards his face, his sorrowful face now showed a sliver of happiness and his great black eyes were fixed in watery adoration.

Hermione had clapped a hand over her open mouth, Ron's eyebrows were in danger of disappearing into his hairline.

Draco's eyes followed Snape's lips as he clasped them around the apple and began to make obnoxiously loud smooching noises.

That was it, it was done. Everyone's collective minds had broken as all sense of sanity vanished before their eyes: Severus Snape, their sallow, hook nosed, greasy haired vampire bat of a teacher was furiously and aggressively cuddling the apple in his hands.

Several thoughts passed Draco Malfoy's mind, most about how utterly stupid Snape looked kissing that apple, like he had no experience doing this at all, he was nearly devouring the poor thing, and his movements were awkward and clumsy, almost pitiful to watch. It was clear just how much experience Snape had with the opposite gender.

Then almost immediately, Draco was filled with rage. An urge to dominate. An urge to beat Snape senseless. An urge to conquer.

"Veronica!" Draco cried out, leaping forward with his palms clenched into a fist, aiming at Snape's face.

Pansy Parkinson screamed as Draco's cauldron was sent toppling over, spewing forth great globules of green jello-like substance onto the floor.

Snape let out a guttural roar as Malfoy's fist made contact with his hooked nose. Snape howled in response, nursing his face. The apple rolled over the ground, and Malfoy let out an incomprehensible cry of victory, then leaped after the apple— but Snape's foot knocked Draco sideways and he went flying, his robes whipping about, drenched in Jello-like purple globby potion. Snape was at his feet, panting heavily. Streaks of purple lined his robes and his face was contorted with rage, he raised a wand towards Malfoy—

Draco staggered to his feet, his handsome features also warped with rage, his face streaked with purple, like he was wearing warpaint.

Draco let out an animalistic roar as jet-black threads of light shot out of Snape's wand and hit Draco in the chest like cannon-fire. Snape snarled and grabbed Draco by his white-blonde hair, throwing him aside.

Snape drew close to the apple with his hands extended outward. Draco let out a roar and tackled him into the wall, pinning Snape against the stone gray walls.

Snape struggled to free himself, but Draco slammed him against the walls again.

The class was terrified and transfixed. Several were screaming, and the air was pierced by the shrill screams of several girls shrieking. Punching Snape must have clearly undone the Silencio spell Snape had cast upon them.

Snape had locked Draco in a headlock, holding him from behind. Draco couldn't get him off, but held his wand pointing backwards into Snape. Both were frozen in a stalemate as they waited for the other to make their move.

Ron and Harry had gotten to their feet, along with everyone else. Crabbe and Goyle were rushing to Malfoy's aid and Harry began to sprint as well when the door to the dungeon slammed open with a bone crunching boom.

Ancient creases lining his forehead, a twinkle glinting behind those half moon glasses— Albus Dumbledore stood in the doorway, looking down on them.


	4. Chapter 4

Madam Pomfrey tutted endlessly as she waved her wand around Draco Malfoy’s head, pausing here and there as her wand tip glowed with a gentle white light. Draco cringed, and let out a sigh of relief immediately as the dozens of cuts and scratches across his face and cheeks began to clear up. 

The morning sun beat down on their faces, sifting through the numerous windows littering Dumbledore’s office. The trees outside murmured with a gentle rustle and birds chirped nearby.

Draco Malfoy sat on a soft comfortable chair opposite Dumbledore’s desk as Madam Pomfrey poked his head in various places. Her wand tip glowed and his bruises cleared up. 

The healing was almost entirely painless, except for Madam Pomfrey’s little pokes on his face that were quite irritating. He plastered a sneer on his face to mask his pain as she poked the inside of his ears, and he felt a warmth in his head as microtraumas on the inside of his skull cleared up and became whole.

 

Opposite Malfoy was a giant desk and a large smooshy chintz chair that normally housed the most powerful butt that lived in Magical Britain—no— the most powerful butt in the entire world. Right now, it was empty. Inviting, with a soft smooshy cushion that made you sink into it when you placed your butt into it-- but very empty right now.

Malfoy grinded and mashed his teeth as he gazed at the desk, which only served as a reminder of all the problems this one bearded guy had caused his entire family, his friends, and their way of life.

This stupid bearded goofball that loved chocolate frogs too much had been their one source of common complaining and swear word-laden conversations that had happened many a time at the Malfoy Manor.

And right now, the chair was empty. 

 

A sharp intake of breath to the right of Draco announced Snape’s presence next to him. Severus was nursing his ear, shooting Pomfrey an icy glare as she held her wand over him, giving Snape a grumpy look that matched his surly scowl.

“For goodness sake, Severus,” Pomfrey said, in-between her tutting, “Of course it’s going to hurt—be a man and sit still!”

Madam Pomfrey pushed a grimacing Snape back into his chair, who was trying to escape.

“It’ll all be gone in a minute, so you just wait and relax—I’m the one doing the work after all, just sit and let me heal you!”

She jabbed Snape’s head with what Draco thought was probably too much force, causing Snape to cringe again. Draco suspected this was her silent way to take revenge on all the students that Snape had sent sobbing to the infirmary for screwing up during Potions for years. He had to hand it to her, she had a real sense of style for keeping it hidden while maintaining a sense of plausible deniability— the Slytherin in her was undeniable, however teensy it was. Too bad the Sorting Hat gave a crap about free will and all that razzmatazz.

Snape ceased his hissing, the cuts and bruises on his face began to clear up, returning him to his pale, sallow grumpy looking self in no time flat.

“There! You see?” said Pomfrey, waving her wand all over Snape. Little bits of purple potion cleared up from his robes and hair. 

“Good as new. Are you happy now? I’m almost done.”

She wielded her wand like a blade for a moment, causing Snape’s brows to rise into his greasy hairline. Then she blinked. She paused, took a deep breath and wielded her wand like a stethoscope again. Snape let out a sigh of relief. She then began pressing her wand against their skulls, randomly nodding and moving on to a different spot of their head after each press.

 

Puffs of white smoke bloomed from many silver instruments on the tables. They whirred mechanically, doing who-knows-what and Draco found himself strangely uncomfortable in the lair of his family’s sworn number one enemy. The office was large and circular, littered with windows that sent ample sunlight into the room. Bedecking the walls were dozens upon dozens of portraits that Draco knew were of the previous Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses, he could guess, from the overly formal and outdated garish fashion statements they all wore. At this moment, they lay snoozing in their frames with their chests rising and dropping with each breath. Draco could swear he saw some of them stealing glances at him with one eye open sometimes, but it was nigh impossible to catch them at it.

 

Madam Pomfrey finished jabbing at their heads one last time, then put a finger on her lips, looking contemplative. Draco and Snape seethed inwardly at this silent humiliation and thanked Merlin there hadn’t been an audience to witness it, not after the travesty that was last Potions class.

 

Several minutes passed by as Madam Pomfrey bustled around the room. Draco was whole again, as if he hadn’t just spent the last hour kicking and punching and biting Snape. 

The door creaked open, causing Malfoy to turn. A gigantic floofy white beard attached to an old man had appeared at the doorway.

“Ah, excellent. Almost done, Poppy?” Albus Dumbledore’s voice rang out. He briskly walked past Draco and neatly settled into his large throne-like chair opposite Malfoy. His eyes glinted behind his half moon glasses. He peered over at Malfoy and Snape with his steepled hands resting on the desk.

“I trust there’s no serious harm done?”

 

“Nothing serious, as far as I can tell,” replied Pomfrey, pocketing her wand and putting her hands on her hips. “Sanity, mental state, all okay. I couldn’t find anything wrong with their heads at all.”

She paused here, just to shoot an icy glare at Snape and Malfoy.  “At least not in any way that’s magical.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said, nodding as his floofy white beard bobbed in tandem with his head.

“They’re both doing well now? Calmed down a bit, have they?”

“Calmed down a lot,” said Pomfrey, “And there’s nothing to suggest memory modifications, befuddlements, confusion, anything. They’re as fit as a pair of troublesome fiddles, Albus.” 

She looked from Dumbledore to the two troublemakers in front of her.

“Of course, I did the best I could with what I had on hand,” said Pomfrey, “They’d need a thorough examination at Mungo’s to be 100% sure. This is just a quick check-up, after all.”

“Thank you, Poppy, please leave us. I have much to say to our young Mr. Malfoy here and Severus.”

Pomfrey nodded, shooting a disapproving look at the two of them.

“Teachers and students fighting at Hogwarts! The shame. The utter shame.” Pomfrey made her way towards the door, “Never have I in my decades here ever seen such a shameful thing.”

Draco and Snape scowled in unision.

“I trust this is the last time something like this happens,” she said, pausing at the door, waggling her finger at them. “Severus? Draco? I’d like to think there’s a higher standard we all ought to aspire to, as Hogwarts faculty or students. Please don’t do this sort of thing again.”

And with a final glare, she left, sliding the door shut behind her. 

 

An hour had passed since Draco and Snape had engaged in fisticuffs in the Potions classroom. 

Draco’s eyelid twitched. The injustice of it all was welling up inside him, threatening to explode. But he had to stay calm, stay cool. He was in the lair of his number one enemy, after all. One wrong move here could be disastrous. Best to keep his head low and get out when he could.

The shimmering twinkle coming from behind Dumbledore’s glasses pulled Draco to reality. 

“Well,” Dumbledore began, smiling a gentle, dignified smile, “This has certainly been an interesting morning. Severus, Mr. Malfoy, I believe this is the first time I’ve had the honour of having both of you in my office at once. Please don’t mind how disorganized it is, I wasn’t expecting visitors so early, you see.”

Dumbledore’s face was kind, but his voice was firm. 

“Now, what do you two have to say for yourselves? Severus?”

“Headmaster,” said Snape at once, his voice smooth and flat, “I am deeply, deeply sorry for all this. I am not sure what came over me—”

Something prickled at the back of Draco’s mind. All self control vanished.

“You’re a docile little doggo, aren’t you,” Draco said, the corners of his mouth twitching, “When Dumbledore’s around?” 

The bottomless pits in Snape’s eyes were back. He sprang to his feet. 

“You insolent little boy—” Snape began, turning on Draco, but Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly. Snape fell silent.

“No more,” said Dumbledore. “No more fighting. Mind your manners, the both of you. As Madam Pomfrey rightly said, we simply do not tolerate faculty and students fighting each other within Hogwarts. Biting people’s noses is strictly forbidden, as is kicking and punching, no matter how exciting the lesson is.”

“He started it!” Draco spat out, “I didn’t bite his nose because I wanted to, you know! He had a go at me in front of everyone!”

“Indeed,” said Dumbledore, “An interesting tactic, that I confess, never occured to me before. I will have to try it on the next dark lord that I face, for I fear the one right now seems to have already defended himself against those tactics.” Dumbledore smiled, the crinkle lines near his eyes filled up.

“Alas, all my exciting days seem to be behind me, I’m afraid. However, Mr. Malfoy, yours are still yet to come, and I think your father would prefer if you didn’t go around biting teachers on their noses. It would make keeping his position on the school board more… problematic.”

Draco furrowed his brows. His arms were still folded. He was determinedly looking anywhere but at Dumbledore.

“As I was saying, Headmaster,” Snape began again, shooting a glare at Draco before he continued, “I must apologize for what happened. I assure you it will not happen again--”

“You can be sure of that,” Draco spat out, interrupting Snape, “There is no “after” for you. I’ve half a mind to go to the newspapers right this second!”

Draco glared defiantly at Snape. Snape grinded his teeth and took several deep breaths before he spoke again. 

“This erratic behaviour,” Snape said, “is precisely what concerns me. Young Malfoy doesn’t seem to be in a right state of mind ever since class. Ever since I saw him with that apple--”

“I’ll show you who’s in a right state of mind, you greasy--” Draco burst out, turning on Snape.

“Enough,“ Dumbledore murmured in a low voice, causing Draco to fall silent.

“Please address him as Professor Snape, Draco,” said Dumbledore, “And please wait until Severus here has finished with his story. I’m here to listen to the both of you. Please be patient.”

Draco scowled, shifting in his seat. He crossed his arms again and looked out the windows. The morning rays caught his haughty face. His face was stuck in a scowl. Murmurs and cheers outside announced that students were out in the grounds, their voices carried all the way up to Dumbledore’s office. A rousing cheer rang out. People were playing Quidditch, Draco supposed.

 

Snape let out a long sigh. 

“I think this quite proves my point,” Snape said, “Obviously, at the root of all of this, there must a powerful artifact acting on his senses— and mine,” Snape added, “I would simply never hurt a student like that otherwise—”

Draco let out a loud snort, not looking away from the windows.

“The obvious cause of all of this seems to be, I suspect, the apple in Young Malfoy’s posession—”

“What apple?” said Draco, tearing his face away from the outside skies. “ What’s this apple you keep harping on about?”

“—Which, thank you for taking away,” said Snape, “As it is impossible, well, less so than now, to have a civil conversation with Mr. Malfoy here when the apple is present.”

Dumbledore nodded. “And from this, you have concluded what, Severus?”

“The apple very likely harbours an enchantment,” said Snape, “Although what kind of jinx, I cannot say, as I was unable to detect anything out of the ordinary despite examining it after his outburst in class.”

Draco looked curiously between Dumbledore and Snape. Dumbledore simply nodded and turned to Malfoy.

“And what say you, Mr. Malfoy?” said Dumbledore. “What did Severus here do to, er, have a go at you?”

“He snogged my girl, he did.” Draco said, shooting Snape a look of utmost disgust.

Dumbledore’s face seemed to have frozen.

“He what,” said Dumbledore.

“In front of everyone, in front of me!” said Draco, looking livid now. “I’ve half a mind to call father right now, and have this miserable bat of a teacher sacked!”

Snape’s chair creaked. His armrest groaned from the lethal amounts of force it was enjoying under his vice grip.

“Would you believe this man?” said Draco, “The sheer balls on him! Having a go at my girl in class! Right in front of me! If that isn’t a flagrant insult to the Malfoy name, I don’t know what is!”

Veins popped in Snape’s hand, throbbing and pulsing.

“Well, Severus,” said Dumbledore, “That is a very serious allegation against you indeed. Do you have anything to say in your defence?”

“For the love of Merlin,” said Snape, exasperated,  “There was no girl! He’s talking about the blasted apple!”

“What on earth is wrong with you?” said Malfoy, “Why do you keep harping on about some apple?”

“How foolish can you be, idiot boy?” spat out Snape, “You’ve obviously been bewitched. Come to your senses already!”

“I’m bewitched?” said Malfoy in tones of outrage, rising to his feet, “Funny, I could’ve sworn I saw you molesting Veronica in the middle of class! The only one acting crazy is you!”

“Then perhaps,” hissed Snape,  “You can explain why you tried to murder me over an apple in class,  Mr. Malfoy!”

“Because I saw you traumatize her!” spat out Draco, “And she’s a very delicate girl! I’m definitely forwarding her therapy bills to Hogwarts, mind you!”

“Draco—” Dumbledore began, but he refused to listen. 

“If you think I’m going to let this be, you’re mistaken. There’s no way father’s not finding out about this.”

Draco whipped around to face Snape.

“I. Will. Have. Your. Head,” he said, in a voice of barely suppressed rage.

Snape was stupefied. Petrified. He looked at Draco as if made of stone; his face was expressionless. You could hang him from a clothes hanger, and he’d remain as still as a bat. 

“What don’t you understand, idiot boy?” Snape hissed, “There. Is. No. Veronica!”

Snape turned to Dumbledore.

“Albus, it is getting very clear we need to do something. We ought to take the boy to St. Mungo’s for a thorough mental checkup immediately, even if we cannot detect any befuddlement on the boy--”

“I’m thinking the Daily Prophet would be a good one to go to first,” Draco said, grinding and mashing his teeth loudly. “I mean, no point going to The Quibbler after all, but I don’t know many papers other than that. Why aren’t there more prominent newspapers around? Are the stupid halfbloods running everything in this country to the ground? God!”

Dumbledore frowned, the concern evident on his face.

“Draco,” said Dumbledore delicately, “Let us get back on track. Your friend—Veronica—which house does she belong to?”

“Slytherin, obviously. She was in class, right with me.”

“I see. And what year would Miss Veronica be in?”

“Sixth year. My year,” said Draco, “Haven’t you been paying attention? God! The one Snape traumatized? Molested, even?”

 

Draco rose to his feet, letting out a sigh.

“This stupid facade is going nowhere,” said Draco, “I’ll get Veronica here. She can explain everything. Why are we even wasting time here without her? Without the victim in all this?”

“Draco…” said Snape, “What is it you don’t understand about your “girlfriend” being an inanimate food item that is part of  a balanced diet? No girl named Veronica attends my class.”

“Scared of having your victim testify, are we?” said Draco, “Why don’t we see what she has to say and get it over with, then? Unless you’ve got something to be scared of, right?”

Snape sighed.

“Indeed, Severus, why not?” said Dumbledore, causing Snape to turn and stare wide eyed at him. “Let us see what Veronica has to say in all this. Please be quick, Draco.”

Draco nodded and made a beeline for the door. He left, slamming the door shut with an entirely unnecessary amount of force, leaving it to shudder on its hinges.

The gleaming sun beat down on Snape and Dumbledore, the windows were wide open, letting plenty of sunlight in. It was a long way to lunch, and Snape found himself shielding his eyes from the brilliant sunlight hitting his face. His sallow pale skin couldn’t take much of this.

“Well, Albus,” said Snape, “I don’t understand why you are humouring him, but it is time to explain.” 

Dumbledore simply reached into his robes and set on the table, between Snape and himself, a shining red apple that gleamed innocently in front of them, with a single leafy stem sticking out of the top of it.

“Ah… The idiot Malfoy’s object of desire,” whispered Snape, looking at the apple with clear distaste.

“Of course you have it. I was wondering why you simply didn’t reveal it to him.”

“As he did not react to it when he could not see it,” said Dumbledore, “It brings to question just what kind of joke apple this is.”

“Meaning?” said Snape.

“If magic is indeed within this apple,” said Dumbledore, tapping the apple, “it certainly isn’t detectable by normal means. Assuming it simply isn’t an exceptionally made joke apple, of course.”

Dumbledore grasped the apple with his long knobbly stereotypical old wizard fingers. He held it to Snape’s face, dangling it in front of him. 

 

“Go on.”

Snape took the apple from Dumbledore.

“Take a bite. Just one,” said Dumbledore.

Snape looked at Dumbledore, then back at the apple. Holding it in his hand, he could not feel the slightest trace of magic within it. Its shiny red exterior caught the sun’s rays, looking marvelously juicy and inviting. 

Placing his lips around it, he took a bite. Crunch. He set the remaining apple back on the desk and began to chew.

Dumbledore simply stared at him chewing. Not creepy-like, he just stared at Snape with that kindly old man face of his, a gentle glint behind those half moon glasses as usual.

A moment passed. Snape’s eyes shot wide open. He turned away from Dumbledore and spat out the apple, giving a cry of disgust.

“What in the name of..” Snape trailed off. “That is --aaarhgh-- unholy!”

Snape stuck his tongue out, his face contorted in disgust. “Sweet Merlin, Albus, that is too far gone!”

Dumbledore chuckled. 

“You should really eat more healthy food, Severus,” said Dumbledore, “If your taste buds are that far gone—”

“I eat just fine, Dumbledore!” snapped Snape, his face scrunched in disgust, “This is..  This apple… That is beyond revolting!”

“Indeed,” said Dumbledore, “That is what happens, I suppose, when you bite into an apple that is centuries old.”

Snape cringed, squinting and sticking out his tongue, “What? Oh Merlin, the aftertaste is horri—”

Snape’s face dropped below the desk. He heaved, nearly emptying out his partially digested bacon and eggs onto Dumbledore’s carpet.

 

The gentle murmur of the trees outside was split with the terrible sounds of Snape retching and heaving in the office.

The portraits lining the room began tutting and making sounds of disgust.

A fresh explosion of cheers rang out from outside—someone had clearly scored in Quidditch. 

Snape reappeared, breathing heavily, looking disheveled.

“You knew, didn’t you?” breathed Snape, “That wasn’t funny, Albus, that was honestly, positively, just vile—”

“Look,” said Dumbledore, peering intently at the apple with his steepled hands resting on the table.

The apple had remateralized its chewed off exterior, looking whole and juicy once again, as if no one had eaten it just seconds back. 

“Ugh… I suppose this is another hellspawn from those worthless buffons at that joke shop?” said Snape indignantly. He clutched at his stomach, crinkling his nose in distaste. “I should have known.”

Dumbledore placed his half moon glasses gently on the table. He lowered his face, peering intently at the apple in front of him. 

His gentle, kindly gaze was no longer. Snape looked curiously from Dumbledore to the apple as Albus burned a deep hole into it with his eyes. It sat in front of them, red and delicious, with a single leaf sticking out its stem. The apple gleamed in the morning sun, looking innocent and wholesome.

“This isn’t an apple,” Dumbledore whispered, giving the apple a long and calculating look.


End file.
